One True Master: Desire Island Series - Book 1

by Claire Thompson

  What would it be like to be an island staff slave? To live on this beautiful, secluded island full time, surrounded by people who were dedicated to the lifestyle? To be owned by Master Caelan…

  “Don’t be stupid,” Skylar said aloud. It was insane to be thinking about making such a major life change after barely a day on the island. And anyway, it was probably next to impossible to get a position. The competition to work there was probably fierce. As for belonging to Master Caelan, she was getting way, way ahead of herself, and she knew it.

  Still, a girl could dream…

  Glancing back at the small clock by the bed, she slid the door closed and hurried into the bathroom, turned on the shower and used the toilet. Steam fogged the mirror as she brushed her teeth. Selecting a fresh disposable razor from a drawer filled with them, she took it, along with the bottle of baby oil, and climbed into the tub.

  Positions training on the beach. That sounded intriguing. She imagined some kind of BDSM Tai Chi, with naked slaves executing graceful movements in unison. Grace, unfortunately, had never been one of Skylar’s strong suits. She’d flunked out of ballet in fifth grade, too clumsy to handle all the toe pointing and pivoting. What the hell—she’d give it her best shot.

  Out of the shower, she toweled herself and blew her hair dry. Remembering Maya’s ministrations the day before, she dabbed some rouge on her nipples and applied a bit of makeup. Returning to the bedroom, she quickly made her bed and then put on her slave collar, a pleasant thrill of anticipation moving through her body as she did so. She quite liked the feeling of the leather around her throat. It put her into an instantly submissive state of mind. And it looked sexy, too.

  With another glance at the clock, she hurried to the closet and retrieved her sneakers. She’d packed a sunhat, but it was so early in the morning that she decided not to take it. Instead, she grabbed a hair elastic from her makeup bag and pulled her hair into a ponytail. With three minutes to spare, she left her room and headed toward the kitchen.

  Chef Henry was there, dressed in fresh white scrubs, Crocs on his feet. He was making what looked like bread dough, kneading and slapping it, his hands covered in flour. Maya and Shani stood nearby, big glasses with some kind of fruit smoothie in their hands. Shani, like Maya, wore a sports bra and workout shorts. Ben and Janie, the other two slaves-in-training, were there too, as naked as Skylar, sipping their own smoothies.

  Skylar, who was used to slurping bad coffee and scarfing down a barely defrosted Danish on the way to work, looked around for the coffee pot. She spied it, but it appeared to be empty. “Uh, is there coffee?” she asked.

  “We’ll have coffee with breakfast later this morning. Have a fruit smoothie before we go out. It’ll give you energy.” Shani nodded toward a tray that contained several glasses of the fruit concoction.

  Skylar took a glass and sipped. “Oh, wow,” she enthused. “That’s absolutely delicious.” She turned to Henry. “My compliments to the chef.”

  He beamed at her. “The Georgia peaches are especially good this year,” he said. “Peach, raspberries, fresh orange juice, a little honey, some crushed ice. Simple.”

  Skylar drained her glass in a few gulps. She eyed the tray of remaining smoothies. Her mouth wanted more, but her stomach wouldn’t appreciate it—not if they were going to exercise.

  A moment later Abbie, another of the staff slaves Skylar had met the night before, came into the kitchen. She, too, wore a sports bra and shorts, though her feet were bare. Abbie was of medium height, with long, fiery red hair pulled back in a shiny ponytail. She had blue eyes, her fair skin dusted with freckles.

  “Morning, all,” she said, breezing into the room. She grabbed a smoothie and took a long drink. She replaced the glass, half-empty, onto the tray. Reaching into her back pocket, she produced a floppy straw hat and positioned it on her head. “Ready, guys? Let’s go.”

  “Thanks, Henry,” Maya called as the small group made its way to a door at the back of the kitchen that apparently led to the outside.

  The sun was higher in the sky now, the ocean a lovely backdrop to the shore. Abbie led them to a large, open-air cabana set directly on the sand. Half a dozen oversized yoga mats were piled on a nearby wooden pallet.

  They started out with basic calisthenics—stretching, jogging in place and jumping jacks. Skylar’s breasts bounced up and down as they exercised. Ben’s shaven cock and balls were bouncing too, but Janie’s overly round, gravity-defying breasts barely moved.

  Skylar, not used to regular exercise, was soon panting, sweat breaking on her brow. No one else seemed the slightest winded, even the older Janie. Chagrined, Skylar made a silent promise to herself to get into better shape.

  “Now that we’re all warmed up,” Abbie finally said, “let’s review our basic slave positions.” She turned to Skylar. “Since this is your first time, I’ll provide you with some one-on-one instruction. Don’t worry if you don’t catch on right away. You’ll be given an opportunity every day you’re here to practice until you get it right.”

  “It won’t take long,” Janie added with an encouraging smile. “They’re basic positions that are a part of any slave regime. You’ve probably done them all before.”

  “Not necessarily,” Shani interjected. “It might take a day or two to get the hang of it. This is Skylar’s first formal training opportunity, isn’t that right, Skylar?”

  “Yes,” Skylar said, flashing Shani a grateful smile. “But I’m ready to learn.”

  “Before we get down to the nitty-gritty,” Abbie continued, “let’s talk about the point of slave positions. They serve a basic function of allowing the Master or Mistress a quick, easy way to indicate what he or she wants. They are also good tools for establishing expected, controlled behaviors, and providing easy access for sex, training and punishment.”

  Skylar listened intently, glad for the chance to catch her breath.

  “For us submissives,” Abbie continued, “they are a wonderful way to show our Doms our submission and devotion. Also, it’s a great way to get into an instant submissive headspace. It helps reinforce our status as possessions to be used as it pleases our owners.”

  Her words resonated deep in Skylar’s core. Imagine living this lifestyle, day in, day out. She glanced around at the others, all of whom had a dreamy, yearning expression on their faces that told her Abbie’s words were resonating with them, too. These were her people—her kindred spirits.

  You belong here, a voice in her head whispered.

  “When you’re ordered to assume a position,” Abbie continued, mostly addressing Skylar, “you should do it quickly and gracefully, without questioning the reason.” She looked around at the small group. “Everyone ready? Grab a yoga mat and we’ll get started.”

  Over the next hour, Abbie reviewed a bewildering number of positions, including a variety of ways to stand, kneel, sit and lie down. As she called out the names of the various positions—attention, at ease, inspection, present, display, surrender and several more Skylar almost immediately forgot—the others assumed the positions with apparent ease. Skylar, on the other hand, felt awkward and graceless as Abbie patiently showed her how to move.

  “Don’t worry,” Abbie said at one point, her expression sympathetic when Skylar screwed up yet again. “You’re doing fine for your first session. I’ll give you a cheat sheet after class. You can practice during free time. By the end of the week, you’ll be a pro.”

  Skylar doubted that very much, but promised herself to make the effort.

  After another quick shower, they reconvened for breakfast in the sub dining room. Skylar still had seen neither hide nor hair of her trainer. That changed as they were finishing a delicious breakfast of homemade biscuits, fluffy scrambled eggs and bacon. Master Caelan stuck his head into the dining room, smiling as his eyes lit on Skylar.

  Unable to help herself, Skylar smiled back, her heart fluttering as if she were a teenager nursing a crush on the teacher. He was again dressed all in black,
his T-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, boots on his feet. He exuded raw power and control. Something in the way he looked at her made her blush. She ducked her head to hide the color she knew was rising in her face. As she did so, she couldn’t help but notice Shani and Maya exchanging meaningful looks. Was her crush that obvious?

  “Good morning,” Master Caelan said to the room at large.

  “Good morning, Master Caelan,” they all said in unison, like a group of school children in an old-fashioned classroom.

  Looking again directly at Skylar, he said, “I’d like you to be waiting for me in the water room at the back of the main dungeon when I arrive there in ten minutes. You will wait in kneeling presentation mode. You may use a yoga mat.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Skylar said, her mouth suddenly dry. Of everything he’d showed her on the brief tour the day before, the water room had especially caught her attention. She loved to watch online videos of water bondage and erotic water torture. Something about being placed underwater by a Master who held your very life in his hands was both deeply unsettling and wildly thrilling. The idea of being tightly bound in a difficult position while pummeled with a cold spray of water both attracted and frightened her.

  It was part and parcel of the whole delicious BDSM dichotomy. For people hardwired like Skylar, there was the constant push and pull of pleasure and pain, of fear and longing, of an innate need for erotic suffering with the flipside of pure ecstasy.

  “Guess I better pee and get over there,” Skylar said to Abbie as they were getting to their feet to clear their plates. Hunching her shoulders, she giggled nervously.

  “Presentation mode is often a precursor to examination, especially at the start of a session,” Abbie said. “Do you remember the four examination positions?”

  “Um…” Skylar squinted at the ceiling as she tried to remember. “Front, back, cunt and anal,” she said.

  “That’s right. They’re all pretty intuitive. You’ll be fine, Skylar. I’m sure of it.”

  While Skylar appreciated the supportive words from her new friend, she was less sure. Yeah, she could totally handle lying on her back and then her stomach with arms and legs spread wide. But just the thought of holding her cunt open for close inspection by a man she’d only met the day before was enough to make her blush. The thought of spreading her ass cheeks so he could stare at her butt hole made her cringe.

  “I hope I don’t die of embarrassment,” she replied anxiously.

  Abbie flapped a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry. Master Caelan is really patient. And this is very routine stuff, Skylar. We all experience it every day in one form or another. It’s quite effective in keeping you in a submissive headspace pretty much all the time. You never know when a Master or Mistress will command you to assume one of the positions. When they do, you are to immediately drop whatever you’re doing and obey. I personally think it’s the sexiest thing in the world. I feel so beautiful here all the time, and it’s not about physical perfection—nothing like that. It’s about how cherished you feel—how treasured.”

  “Wow,” Skylar whispered in awe. Was this place for real?

  “If you get embarrassed, just remember that you are serving your Master and pleasing him. That’s all you need to hold onto.”

  Ten minutes later, Skylar was kneeling alone on a yoga mat in the center of the tiled room. Her fingers were interlocked behind her head, chin up, eyes down, butt on her heels, back straight and knees spread.

  There had been several scenes already in progress in the main dungeon as she’d passed through on her way. She was glad her session was going to take place in private, as she didn’t yet feel ready for public display.

  Master Caelan finally entered the empty room, his boots loud on the tiled floor. Despite an intense desire to look up, she kept her eyes downcast and waited, her heart thumping.

  “Before we get started with training this morning, I think you have something to tell me.”

  Confused, Skylar asked, “I’m sorry? What?”

  “Last night, Skylar. When I came in to check on you. What you were doing under the covers?”

  Her stomach twisted into a hard knot, her palms suddenly sweating. Heat seared her cheeks as she looked away from his probing gaze. He knew. Shit. He knew…

  A dozen lies leaped into her brain. She was just scratching her leg. She was doing her Kegel exercises. She wasn’t doing anything—what was he talking about?

  His words from their online phone call echoed in her guilty mind. “I want—no, I require—full honesty and open communication at all times. Trust is at the core of any BDSM relationship, even the somewhat limited relationship of trainer and trainee.”

  He obviously knew something had been going on. To compound the infraction with a blatant lie would be a big mistake. The only person she would be sabotaging was herself.

  Girding her courage, she forced herself to look at him. He was regarding her with a calm but rather stern expression. Pushing past the fear still coiling in her gut, she admitted in a mumble, “I was touching myself, Sir.”

  “What was that? Speak up clearly.”

  She blew out a breath, her face flaming. “I was touching myself, Sir,” she said in a louder voice. “I was masturbating.”

  He nodded slowly, her words only confirming what he clearly already knew.

  “Is it permitted for a slave in training to masturbate by herself and without the express permission of her trainer?”

  He obviously knew the fucking answer, but he was going to make her say it—the sadist.

  “No, Sir,” she managed. “But I stopped,” she added urgently. “After you left that second time, I knew I shouldn’t be doing it, and I stopped before I even came.”

  He nodded soberly. “I believe you. And that’s commendable. But it doesn’t change the fact that you flagrantly violated the island rules, isn’t that right?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she admitted miserably, tears springing to her eyes.

  “What should I, as your trainer, do about that?”

  “Um…give me a pass because I’m so new and it was just my first day?” she suggested hopefully.

  The stern look changed to one of surprise and then he actually laughed, just a brief, startled bark of sound before his smile fell away. “Uh, that would be a no, Skylar. What I should and will do as your trainer is punish you.”

  Skylar absorbed this distressing news, images of that nasty cage flashing in her mind.

  “Front display mode.”

  It took Skylar a moment to process what he meant. Hoping she was doing it right, she shifted awkwardly from her knees to her back and assumed the position.

  Master Caelan crouched beside her. He ran his hands lightly over her body and legs, his touch leaving an electric trail of desire along her skin. He cupped her breasts and tweaked her nipples, which instantly stiffened at his touch. She resisted a very real urge to raise her arms and wrap them around his neck, forcing him down for a kiss.

  “Cunt display mode,” he said, his hands falling away from her body.

  Oh, god. This was so embarrassing. A horrible flashback of a fumbling make-out session back in sophomore year of high school with a guy she hadn’t even liked all that much leaped into her brain. They’d been lying in an uncomfortable sprawl on the back seat of his parents’ car. Her panties were off, her legs akimbo, her eyes closed.

  He’d suddenly flicked on the car’s overhead light. When she’d opened her eyes, he was leaning right over her cunt, his expression both eager and horrified. She’d slammed her legs together, outraged and embarrassed. Of course, she’d been fifteen and insecure about her body. She was a grown woman now. And she was here voluntarily with a professional who was calmly waiting for her to obey.

  Reluctantly, she brought her arms from over her head and reached for her cunt, spreading her legs in the process. She arched her back and lifted her pelvis as she held herself open for him. She felt hot all over, as if her entire body was blushing.


  He leaned up over her, his face so close he could have licked her.

  She closed her eyes, forgetting to breathe as he gently pinched and prodded her sex. In spite of her acute embarrassment, her cunt was throbbing with need. She could smell her own arousal and that just made her blush even more. Could this get any more humiliating?

  “Anal display mode,” he said, his hands falling away.

  Why, yes. It could.

  Barely able to bite back her groan, Skylar forced herself to roll over and assume the position. Reaching back with both hands, she spread her cheeks, glad her face was hidden.

  “Lift your ass higher so I have better access,” he commanded.

  He ran a finger along the crack of her ass and then circled the tight pucker. She jerked at the touch, causing him to bark, “Stay still. I’m going to examine your ass more thoroughly. You will not move or make a sound, no matter what I do. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir,” Skylar managed, her heart thumping.

  She heard him getting to his feet. She tried to see what he was doing in her peripheral vision as he clomped away from her, but he was out of her line of sight and she didn’t dare move her head.

  When he returned, he crouched again, this time behind her between her spread legs. She felt something gooey and hard between her ass cheeks and realized it was his finger again, this time covered in lubricant. He pushed it slowly inside her. Her anal muscles spasmed against the digit and she yelped involuntarily.

  “Silence,” he reminded her. “Our focus during this session will be on desensitization. If you’re to be a true slave, you need to give your body—your entire body—freely to your Master. You have to find a way to transcend any natural modesty or hesitation. Resistance of any kind is not acceptable.”